


Got A Chill

by SolarMorrigan



Series: Solar's 007 Fest 2019 [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 07:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19436737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: Q hates the cold, but at least Bond is around to keep him warm





	Got A Chill

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 of 007 Fest! This one doesn't fill any prompts, it's just one I've been sitting on for a bit. A bit of fluff for day 1 sounded like a good idea
> 
> My editing abilities seem to go downhill in July, so if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to let me know so I can correct them

Bond bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling at the litany of swears Q was chanting behind him; he doubted if it would be appreciated.

“Fucking snow, fucking ice, fucking cold, fucking–” Q muttered under his breath as he struggled out of his wet socks and shoes, “winter. _Fucking winter.”_

“I would have given you a ride if you’d called,” Bond said, twisting to glance over the back of the sofa to where Q was shedding layers like a tree dropping dead leaves.

Q snorted derisively, leaving his socks and shoes in an uncharacteristically messy heap by the door. “I wasn’t going to ask you to drive in that shit.”

“Q,” Bond said slowly, “you _do_ recall I’m trained in defensive driving, don’t you? I’ve led entire car chases through the snow.”

“Yes, yes, I’m not calling _your_ driving into question. At least, not at the moment. It’s everyone _else_ on the road I don’t trust.”

Now down to a pair of rumpled trousers and a loudly-patterned turtleneck jumper, Q shuffled over to his desk with his bag in tow to plug in his laptop to charge and then, interestingly, began to fiddle with his belt.

Bond watched with anticipatory confusion as Q first opened his belt, then the fly of his trousers, and let the whole lot drop to the floor, leaving him in his pants and jumper.

It wasn’t as though Q had never stripped for Bond before, but the mood was usually a bit – warmer, so to say. Bond would have thought Q was too cold and too grumpy to entertain those sorts of ideas.

The situation was made no clearer when Q stomped over to the couch, not a hint of a seductive sway to his hips, and stood before Bond as imperiously as he was able to while shivering. “Move the book or lose it,” he demanded, gesturing to the book that had been abandoned to Bond’s lap when Q had come in.

Obligingly, Bond moved the book to the side table and found himself almost immediately with a lapful of half-frozen boffin.

Bond didn’t move as Q made himself comfortable, planting his knees on either side of Bond’s hips and snuggling in close with his arms wrapped around Bond’s waist and the freezing tip of his nose buried in Bond’s neck.

Q hummed, tired and low. “You’re warm.”

“I imagine an icebox would feel warm to you right now.” Bond ran his hands up the bare thighs bracketing his own, trying to soothe the marble chill out of them. “Usually one keeps on as many layers as possible when trying to stay warm.”

“Trouser cuffs were wet,” Q mumbled into Bond’s neck.

“I see.” Bond smirked at the feel of Q’s fingers toying with the hem of his shirt, and slid his hands further back until he was cupping Q’s arse. “I suppose I could just lose mine, as well. Skin to skin contact _is_ the best way to share body heat.”

“Hmm. You’re right about that,” Q admitted, now tugging at the edge of Bond’s sweatshirt with intent, pushing his hands up and in and–

 _“Christ,”_ Bond swore, flinching as Q shoved his freezing hands under Bond’s shirt and against the warm, bare skin beneath.

“Forgot my gloves,” Q said, pulling back enough to smile innocently at Bond.

“Did you even _look_ at the weather report before you left for work?” Bond groused.

“I was in a bit of a hurry, you might remember,” Q replied, pressing his face back into the crook of Bond’s neck.

That much was true, Bond admitted; they’d both been woken at five AM by the ringing of Q’s work mobile, but where Bond had been allowed to stay in bed and make the most of his day off (mostly he’d slept quite a lot to make up for the dearth of it he’d had on his last mission and then slouched around the flat in sweats because he could), Q had had to stumble around in the early dark and get his arse into work by six. It was now eight in the evening.

“Crisis resolved, at least?” Bond asked, moving his hands once more to wrap around Q’s waist.

Q made a vague noise that Bond took to mean either “yes,” or “yes, but with great difficulty that I want to complain about later.” Probably the latter.

“Are you going to fall asleep like this?” Bond asked.

“Hmmmaybe.”

“You’ll get a kink in your back.”

“But I’ll be _warm.”_

There would, apparently, be no arguing with Q on the subject, cephalopod-esque weight that he had become on Bond’s lap, and so Bond sighed and instead groped around on the back of the couch. A moment’s tugging earned him the flannel throw blanket, which he swung over Q’s back and tucked neatly around the both of them.

Q hummed again, wriggling slightly on Bond’s lap before settling. “Perfect,” he sighed.

“Am I?” Bond asked, just this side of cheeky.

“Sometimes. Don’t let it go to your head,” Q warned him, pressing one soft kiss to the warm skin on Bond’s neck and another to the corner of his jaw, then subsiding.

“I’ll do my best,” Bond murmured, and when no reply came, he reached out for the book he’d left on the side table.

He resumed reading over Q’s shoulder, imagining the I-told-you-so’s he’d get to wave at Q when he woke in an hour with a sore back, and wondered if the nap would recharge Q enough that he’d let Bond rub it (and other things) out.

If not, well – he still had Q here and now, a quickly warming weight settled almost comfortingly over him, his hair tickling Bond’s jaw and his breath feathering out over Bond’s throat and his fingers twitching against Bond’s sides. Q could complain about winter all he liked, but Bond found he didn’t mind it one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on [Tumblr!](https://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/post/185982065813/got-a-chill) Come join the fun!


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